


don't let this moment pass you by

by jenhrding



Category: Dead To Me (TV)
Genre: F/F, a lot of fluff because its been a while, a lot of good old fashioned yearning, jen is just so disgustingly soft, post season 2 or when everything is fine, the taylor swift reference was just a necessity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:07:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26470882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenhrding/pseuds/jenhrding
Summary: “Jen was never into PDA — or affection in general —, but then, she met Judy Hale.”or five times where jen does, in fact, like the grabbing.
Relationships: Judy Hale/Jen Harding
Comments: 13
Kudos: 162





	don't let this moment pass you by

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't been doing anything in quarantine so i'm writing these little stories about them because i miss them  
> sorry, enjoy  
> (title from pass you by - alaina castillo)

**_one_ **

Jen was never into PDA — or affection in general —, even with Ted. A hand on her lower back when they went to see his family on Christmas was enough for her, for him too, since he didn’t seem too eager to be around her once their marriage was getting slightly strained. So, yes, Jen was never into displays of affection in any form, but then she met Judy Hale.

Judy changed her in many ways, keeps doing it, every day she notices something new, and Judy says she’s not changing her, she’s just revealing a part of Jen she never knew she had. Jen rolls her eyes, of course, but she’s not too bothered by it, actually kind of enjoys it. It has made her a better friend, a better mother, even a better daughter-in-law to Lorna, which she really didn’t see coming, but it’s there, and she appreciates it, Judy knows she does.

Other than that, Judy has made her go _soft_. It also doesn’t help that Jen is desperately in love with her, to the level where she feels like she might actually go insane sometimes — when they’re lying in bed, closer than it should be considered just what friends do, and Jen feels as if she’ll pass out if she doesn’t grab Judy’s face and kiss her —, and now there’s this thing that she wants, this thing that could also be translated as wanting Judy impossibly close all the time. She misses Judy when she’s working, misses her hands when she’s cooking and doesn’t have a free one for her to hold or play with her rings, misses her in bed when she gets stuck for a good half an hour reading for Henry — and it warms her heart, really, but she wants _Judy time_ too.

She feels bad for taking, for yanking on Judy’s arm when they’re grocery shopping — talk about a role reversal —, for resting her chin on the other woman’s shoulder when she’s sitting at the kitchen counter, for laying her head on Judy’s lap almost like a child, or a cat, just to prompt her friend to run her fingers through her hair. She hates it, how needy she is, but she can’t stop. And it’s almost, if not entirely, ridiculous how she used to beg Judy not to hover, not to grab her, only because she wasn’t used to it, didn’t know how to handle that amount of care shown to her, and now she’s begging Judy to do the opposite — not directly, but still.

The brunette seems happy to do it, though, looks comfortable, sometimes even initiates it, but Jen can’t take out of her mind the thought that Judy’s affectionate to everyone. Probably was to Steve, to Nick, to Michelle, to anyone she might’ve dated before, and to the ones she didn’t: old friends, her mom, whoever. And, _God_ , Jen was never a really jealous person — maybe she should’ve been, taking Ted’s history of _cheating_ into consideration —, but Judy just makes her go hysterical. It makes her blood boil when she comes back from the bar restroom and Judy’s laughing at something someone else said; she glares at anyone who flirts with her when they’re at the mall; and the day Judy had a date? Worst one of her life, topping murder and the possibility of going to prison.

She blames it on the year they had, being in a car accident and thinking you and the other mother of your kids are going to die really puts things into perspective, but she knows it’s not only that, she knows she’s been in love with Judy for longer than she cares to admit, has needed her for longer than she believes. She doesn’t know if she’ll say it, though, isn’t convinced that there’s a chance Judy loves her too, because, really, why would she? Judy would probably want someone younger, less mentally fucked up, with a better body than hers, someone who has the guts to admit they’re in love with her. And Jen knows she’s not that person, knows herself too well, inside and out, to understand that she’s not quite desirable — her husband had made her believe it and everyone else in her life seemed to follow suit.

Now, here she is, watching as Judy dances to no music at all around their kitchen, many tequila shots in her system, and laughs because even with no music she has no rhythm, has to stop herself from getting up and guiding her body in the way she’s desperate to. Her friend changes her expression, then, leans against the counter and holds the cold marble, and she’s immediately getting up to check on her. Jen only understands what’s happening when Judy’s five steps away, almost running to the bathroom. She strides over and sees the brunette kneeling in front of the toilet, so she moves to delicately pull her brown locks away from her face and rubs her back.

“Are you okay?” Jen asks when Judy moves away from the toilet.

“I think so.”

“I’m gonna go get you some water.” She caresses her hair and smiles softly, an ability she didn’t know she had.

“Noo!” Judy whines. “Don’t leave me.”

“Honey, I’ll be back in two minutes.” Her friend shakes her head with a pout and Jen knows she’s too far gone to say no. “Fine. But can you please brush your teeth so we can sit on the couch?” Judy nods and does what Jen asked.

Judy’s usually clingy when she feels sick, whether it’s a cold or a different type of uneasiness. Jen feels bad, knows how awful it is and complies, as if she wouldn’t do it even without Judy asking. But still, she runs her fingers through Judy’s hair while she drunkenly rambles on about a different pie recipe she wants to try, apologizes three hundred times about throwing up and changes subjects in a spare of seconds. Jen pays attention to everything, even if she’s almost falling asleep, doesn’t miss a word.

**_two_ **

It gets to a point where she hates that she has to stop herself from asking Judy to lay a hand on her thigh while driving. She craves being around her, needs physical contact — only from her — almost as much as she needs water, maybe even more, the feeling of drought is the same, but the constant is different: she can go two days without water, she cannot go two days without Judy. And the fact made itself pretty clear when Judy had a girlfriend and spent most nights away from their bed, it was embarrassing, the way Jen felt as though the brunette was cheating on her.

But Judy doesn’t have a girlfriend anymore, and Lorna is convinced that Jen is dating her and made the boys swear not to tell. So, they’re sitting at a table in a fancy restaurant her mother-in-law — feels weird to call her that, but it’s not like she divorced Ted, he just _died_ — picked. Charlie and Henry are talking about something she doesn’t get, lost in their own little world and their oldest son has, surprisingly, chosen his brother over his cellphone. And Jen has a hand resting on Judy’s leg under the table, the brunette caresses it sometimes, ever so slightly, but it's there, the warmth, the comfort, she appreciates it.

Lorna goes on about routine, asks how Jen’s doing selling houses on her own — the answer is “ _fucking awesome, Lorna, thank you_ ” and the woman doesn’t even complain about language —, then she asks about Judy’s paintings, easing herself into the question she’s been wanting to drop.

“So, you don’t have to lie to me, Jennifer. I know Ted’s not here anymore but you’re still family, I’d like to know who you’re dating.” Jen almost chokes on her wine and frowns.

“I don’t know where you got that from, but I’m not dating anyone.” She smiles as sweetly as she can manage without it looking too forced.

“Why do you two think you can’t tell me about this? Do you think I’ll judge you? Because I won’t and-“

“What are you talking about?” Jen interrupts her, Judy’s just silently eating her vegan pasta dish.

“Well, you two are clearly dating and don’t want to tell me.” Lorna says, matter-of-factly. Jen looks at Judy and the woman is wide-eyed, waiting for her friend to say something.

“We’re not dating, Lorna.” The blonde says, more seriously than she intended. “If we ever do, I promise I’ll tell you, does that work for you?” She doesn’t look at Judy this time, afraid of what her face might be telling.

“How come?”

“Excuse me?”

“How come are you not dating? The boys sure have taken into calling Ms. Hale their mother.”

“I-“ Jen’s at a loss for words. She’s never had any trouble sending snarky comments at Lorna, but she’s come up short. Even the boys seem to be interested in the conversation now.

“Jen thinks she’s too good for me.” Judy chimes in with a joke, fake disappointment all over her face.

“Hey!” Jen complains and Judy giggles. “It’s not that.” She turns back to Lorna, who seems to be eagerly waiting for an actual answer. “We’re friends, Lorna, you know this. Just... very good, _platonic_ , friends.” It almost hurts to get it out, in the way she might be blowing all of her tiny chances with Judy by saying this but it’s the truth, one she’d really love to forget.

Lorna seems convinced now. Although Charlie keeps stealing glances at his blonde mom throughout the rest of dinner, things seem to be fine, at least for the time being. Later, when they’re getting in bed, Jen keeps coming back to Judy’s joke, and her mind isn’t letting go of that, so she can’t help but ask.

“You don’t really believe what you said earlier, right?” She asks, getting under the covers and prompting Judy to close her book.

“What did I say?”

“That I think I’m too good for you?” Her voice is uncertain, cautious.

“God, no!” Judy smiles. “Though that ‘ _very platonic friends_ ’ of yours didn’t inspire the opposite.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Do I?” Her smile hasn’t faltered, so Jen just nods. “You’re very confusing.” She looks to her side and puts her book away.

“What do you mean?” She frowns, leaning her head against the headboard.

“First you use the words ‘ _if we ever date_ ’, then you move on to saying there’s not a chance something’s happening between us.”

“I, um... I didn’t know you were thinking about that.”

“Well, I am _now_.”

“Right.” Jen tries to mask her disappointment. It was absurd of her to think that Judy might’ve felt the same since the beginning.

“Jen.” Judy says and she looks up at her. “I just never thought there was a chance and-“

“No, Judy, it’s fine.” She shakes her head dismissively. “I get it.” She’s sure Judy looks right through her smile, but she lets it go for now.

Jen has trouble sleeping that night, even with Judy pressed behind her back, legs tangled together. Her mind keeps trying to organize thoughts she doesn’t even understand, because there’s a chance Judy could be into her, but it’s just because the possibility was shown to her, it’s not because she’s been interested in Jen as well. She hates that it hurts, but it does. It does because she’s too far deep in self-loathing and being presented only with disgust towards her body for it not to sting. Judy might _grow_ to love her, might _develop_ a desire, but it’s not like she already has, it’s not like she’s seen Jen and thought ‘ _I wish I could fuck her_ ’ — even if that is very forward but she doesn’t put it past Judy. She wonders, then, if that’s a bad thing, the development of feelings, if she’d only ever want Judy if their relationship had been love at first sight, because it wasn’t on her part, either, but she didn’t only realize her feelings when she thought it was a possibility. She wonders if she can live with that.

_**three** _

She wakes up one day to the sound of Judy trying to enter their bedroom quietly, and failing so miserably Jen has to contain a laugh. When she looks at the clock, she’s startled to see that it’s way past the time she should’ve woken up, and there’s no way she’ll get ready in time to take the boys to school. Then, she sees Judy coming closer to her side of the bed with a tray, grinning happily and looking very nice in one of her signature dresses with her wavy hair. Jen sits up and frowns.

“You let me miss my alarm.”

“I know.” She keeps smiling and places the tray across Jen’s lap.

“What’s this for?”

“It's been two years since we met.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but it’s not a big deal or anything, I’ve been wanting to make something nice for you for a while, now I have an excuse.” Judy winks and Jen chuckles, shaking her head.

“What about the boys’ school?”

“Oh, I’m taking them. I know you don’t have to work today, so you just enjoy your breakfast and I’m doing everything else. You’ve been working so much, it’s well deserved.” She does something like a bow.

“Thanks, Jude.”

“Of course!” She grins, even more excitedly than before. “I can’t be here with you today because I have to work but I think you could appreciate some time alone as well.” _No, I can’t, stay with me_. “I should go, or I’ll make everyone late. Enjoy today, I love you.” She says and kisses the top of Jen’s head — which does _not_ make her melt inside —, before squeezing her hand.

“Thank you, I love you too.”

She likes it, how easy it is to say it now, even if her own have a different meaning behind them, she does love Judy as a best friend too, loves how she cares, how there’s never, ever, malice to her actions, how she does just make Jen breakfast in bed because she wants to, because she cares, because she loves her. And there’s something about being cared for that she hasn’t felt in so long, the sensation almost slipping through her fingers, she didn’t know that she yearned for someone to look out for her, for someone to care, and Judy does it so naturally, in a way that couldn’t be forced if she tried, because she’s selfless like that and it’s one of the things Jen loves the most about her.

Jen has never been too in tune with other people’s needs, she didn’t think she was good at taking care, didn’t think she was a natural. She got better at it when she got pregnant, her kids could make the tiniest noise that she’d know what they wanted, if they were hungry, if they were tired, if they needed a diaper change, but she did have a lot of practice. Judy has shown her that she does it to other people too, pointed it out once when they were walking at a park and she helped a toddler who had tripped over and scraped his knee — she kneeled, talked to him in the sweetest voice and helped him find his mom, the words ' _boo boo'_ and ' _lollipop'_ were involved —, but Jen dismissed it, said she just had motherly instincts. Judy pointed, then, that she takes care of adults too. Judy, for example, when she’s drunk or sick; Chris, that one time when he had a fight with his boyfriend and she let him crash in her guest bedroom after listening to him cry for an hour; even Karen, that night where she drank too much because Jeff had finally left home. So, she notices it now, how she’s been taking care of everyone for years — Ted, more times than she can count —, and no one has taken care of her, at least until she met Judy. Judy, who does it without having to be asked, who noticed that Jen was getting a cold even before she did, who makes cherry pie for her when she notices that she’s sad, who, somehow, feels the shift in the house’s energy and holds Jen through the dawn while she cries, and who takes care of the boys as if she’d birthed them herself.

It’s nice, to have someone to lean on, to share the weight of a life where there has been way more hurt than peace, to share the grief they understand too well. It's even better when they're hugging.

**_four_ **

A month later it’s Henry’s birthday. Judy makes him a fancy breakfast and he gets gifts from both of his moms and his brother, one from each. He happens to have a Holy Harmonies performance later in the day and his grandma promises to stop by to watch and give him his present. Jen was worried about him missing a few hours from his birthday, but he just says it’ll be fun, and everyone ends up singing happy birthday to him when it ends.

It’s an understatement to say that he’s thrilled, and Charlie suggests they should go eat after it, the four of them, and they let Henry pick the place. That’s how she gets there, watching Judy and Henry talk excitedly about their new favorite Taylor Swift song and hearing Charlie whisper to her “ _are you sure you’re not together?_ ” when he catches her staring a little too lovingly at the pair in front of her, too happy for what she’d normally be in an Olive Garden too far from home — because, obviously, Henry had to pick the restaurant that is in Laguna Hills. Of course, her answer is something like “ _has your grandma brainwashed you too? Next thing I know you’re gonna wanna be baptized as well_ ”, to which he rolls his eyes and eats a mozzarella stick.

She’s noticed how Judy is too far for her liking, but she’s not that mad about it, being able to watch her adorable interaction with Henry is enough to make it worth it, plus, she knows she’ll be going home to a Judy in her bed — which does make it sound like they’re together, but that’s just wishful thinking on her part. And really, they’re all too happy for her to care about anything else, even if there’s this ache in her heart that keeps reminding her that Henry’s eleven now, that her kids are growing and that she can’t do anything to stop it, they’re leaving soon — not that soon but, still, she’s anxious —, they’re leaving her comfortable nest and becoming their own people, which is not a very comforting thought for her to have, although she’s used to it, has it at every birthday, every beginning or ending of school year, every Christmas, it just hurts a bit.

Judy hugs her that night in bed. She usually does, or kisses her cheek, her forehead, wherever is close, but this time it’s because Jen said “ _they’re growing up so fast, Jude_ ” and her friend, always the best at comforting her, something she wishes she was herself, says that she knows, that they’re just gonna have to accept it, that in a few years it’s gonna be just the two of them, but says that they still have a lot of time. Says Henry’s _only_ eleven, not _already_ eleven, he still enjoys animated movies, kid’s stories told before bed, sometimes even sneaks in to sleep in the middle of them when he has a nightmare, and Charlie might be older, but he likes family days too, likes watching cartoons with his brother sometimes, likes sitting on the couch between his mothers and being smothered in hugs. And there’s something about the prospect of a future that calms Jen, something about her saying ‘ _it’s gonna be just the two of us_ ’, as if she doesn’t intend on leaving, ever, as if she knows where she’ll be in fifty years, right there, beside Jen, probably holding her through a difficult night like this one.

_**five** _

Jen can’t stop thinking, then, and realizes she can, in fact, live with the fact that Judy might’ve not have loved her since they met, that Judy might have to learn how to love her, if she wants to try it, and, really, therapy helps with that. She was reluctant to go at first, but Judy insisted, and she actually likes it, has grown to like it, and understands that might not be all that bad.

She doesn’t think she’ll ask for it when she does, though, but it goes something like this: Judy’s making dinner, it’s hot outside, global warming showing its power in the beginning of spring, so the air conditioning is on, making the living room freezing cold just in the way Jen likes it. Judy always complains about it, in their bedroom or in other rooms, says there’s no need for that, that they’re just gonna have to pay more expensive bills for nothing, but Jen dismisses it, says “ _why not pay if we have the money to?_ ”, and Judy, who might be hanging out with Jen too much, rolls her eyes but doesn’t let on. So, it’s 60 degrees inside — although Judy says it feels like 40 —, and the brunette is wrapped up in Jen’s way too big sweatpants and a fluffy sweater, mixing something in a pot while Jen — who has her hair in a braid that Judy did when they were bored a few minutes earlier — is cutting up vegetables beside her.

It’s a painful squeak that prompts Judy to take her eyes away from the pot to realize that the sound came from Jen, who is now hissing a string of ‘ _fucks_ ’ under her breath while looking for a paper towel. She notices a bit of blood on the knife and turns the stove off, walking quickly behind Jen to follow her into the downstairs bathroom. When they’re in, Judy makes her run cold water on her finger, says that she’d help but she’s freezing cold, complains about Jen’s thin sweatpants and tight tank top, to which the blonde just laughs.

Judy is holding her hand and inspecting it before grabbing a band-aid to place on the cut. Jen just can’t help staring at her, her movements, the little lines around her mouth that show less when she’s frowning worriedly like she is, the pout that is almost always there, whether it is to ask Jen for something or to make Charlie compliment her food. And Jen is sure, fuck she’s _so_ sure, that she’s drowning, that the only way to come up for air is what she’s been avoiding, what she’s been tiptoeing around, what makes her take a deep breath, close her eyes, and let out:

“I might be in love with you.” Judy just looks up, wide-eyed, mouth slightly parted in shock, asks ‘ _what_?’, so quietly, and now that the gates are open she can’t just not talk. “That was wrong. I _am_ in love with you. Like, desperately, for months now, and I know that you never thought about us in that way, but I’m asking you to do it, if you want, to give it some thought, maybe, and see if you want anything to do with me. Because if you don’t, that’s fine, I can just bury it down and we can pretend like I never said anything, but if you do, than, I guess... I don’t know. I just thought that we don’t have much time, I’ve already lived fifty percent of what I probably have and… if you could say something, please, ‘cause I’m starting to think this was a big mistake. I know I didn’t leave much of an opening but, um, yeah, I’m gonna shut up now.” And now, she’s waiting, feels like she’s just jumped from the highest hill and the fall never ends, like it’s gonna go on forever, Judy in silence, wondering how she can say, in the gentlest way possible, that she doesn’t want this, that she’s not jumping too. Except, she does.

“I’m in love with you too.”

“Judy, you really don’t have to say it just because I said it, that’s actually pretty sad and makes me feel-“

“Jen. Shut up.” Judy interrupts. “God, I never thought you could talk that much.” She smiles, makes Jen smile too. “I’ve wanted you for a while now, but you gave me such mixed signals and I was lost for most of our friendship.”

“So you...?” Jen asks, stupidly, but she needs to hear it, needs the confirmation that they jumped together, that there’s a fluffy ground waiting for them to land comfortably.

“I love you. I thought that was clear.”

Jen kisses her, forgets about the band-aid that’s only half stuck to her finger, barely protecting the cut at all, more hugs her than anything else, wraps her arms around Judy’s waist and moves her face to hide in her neck because she’s just so, so relieved. It’s the kind of feeling she hasn’t had since the doctor told her Judy was fine, that the other car barely hurt her, and it’s good. Fuck, it’s so good she doesn’t think she wants to feel anything else ever again, had forgotten how good relief feels, had forgotten how good it feels when that held breath finally leaves, and this is it, she thinks, this is the fluffy ground where they land on.

When they’re sitting on the couch after dinner, watching a movie with the kids, and Judy’s almost on her lap, snuggled up to her side, head laying on her shoulder, fingers intertwined, she realizes that, no, there are many more feelings she’d like to get to know, and love is for sure one of them.


End file.
